Elijah glanced at Marcos, a little worried that both the rogue leopards were missing. Their primary concern should have been Imelda’s safety. They didn’t know Marcos or Elijah or their intentions.

“How long have you had your security?” Elijah asked.

Her lashes veiled her eyes. “About two years. They’re . . . exceptional.”

His eyebrows shot up. Marcos smirked. “Really?” Elijah said. “I don’t see them here where they should be, watching out for you. They wouldn’t stay in my employ for ten minutes.”

“Nor mine,” Marcos agreed.

Anger slithered over her face. She didn’t like being embarrassed and she could see the point both had made was valid. She glared at her guard and snapped her fingers. He immediately began to speak into the radio, telling the two rogues Imelda requested their presence immediately.

“They’ve gotten sloppy,” Elijah continued. “They should be on you every moment. Conner, or any one of these men, would never stand for being away from you, even if you wanted it. They would have made certain you signed a binding contract with them to that effect. If you refused, they wouldn’t take you on as a client.”

“Marcos, didn’t you tell Philip that one of the guards was your nephew?” Imelda asked.

Marcos and Elijah exchanged a knowing look. She’d made a mistake and didn’t realize it. The conversation had taken place before Imelda had arrived, which meant they’d been taped and she’d already viewed those tapes before her arrival—which they’d suspected would happen.

“That is correct. Two of them are. And one is related to Elijah.”

Imelda shrugged one slim shoulder. “You see, your help is family and no one else can be fully trusted to do the job.”

“Conner is not family, but is fully trusted,” Elijah objected. “But of course, we obviously think differently. I know my men wouldn’t betray me and I don’t worry if they overhear business discussions. They would carry the details to their grave.”

She couldn’t miss the smirk exchanged between the two men. The head of her security team had made her look foolish in front of the two men she wanted most to impress. She would not forgive that easily. For a moment, black rage glittered in her eyes, and then she resumed her mask of congeniality.

Conner emerged, his expression unreadable. “That room is not suitable for a discussion, Marcos.” There was finality in his words. A command, not a suggestion.

Imelda was clearly intrigued by the way he ordered his employer. Conner had studied every detail of her personality from information Rio had gathered and she wanted a strong male, but also wanted the control. Her men didn’t last long. And her security detail probably went through hell with her. A man like Conner Vega would appeal to her in every way. He was clearly loyal to a fault, in complete control and dedicated to serving his employer. And he’d bested her leopards.

“That’s ridiculous,” Imelda argued, more because she wanted to challenge Conner, make him notice her, than for any other reason. “We conduct all our business in that room.”

Conner’s impassive gaze flicked to her and then returned to Marcos. “The room is hot.”

There was a small silence. Marcos slowly turned his head to stare at Imelda, his friendly demeanor dissolving. Elijah put his glass down and faced her and there was no trace of friendliness. Suddenly he looked every inch his reputation. Imelda was very aware of the other bodyguards, moving into positions where they could stop anyone from coming in from any direction.

“I don’t know what that means,” Imelda said, trying to stay calm. No one had ever challenged her authority before—not and lived. Right at that moment she felt closer to death than she ever had before. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. The threat was in the burning gold of Conner’s eyes. He looked impersonal, yet so dangerous. Her body flooded with adrenaline, but also with sudden hunger.

“It means,” Marcos explained impatiently, “that the room is wired.”

“I thought we were having a friendly conversation,” Elijah said. “Marcos assured me of that.”

Comprehension dawned. Imelda had been the one to suggest to Philip that he take advantage of his sexual hobby and make his servants available to his wealthier and diplomatic “friends.” Videotaping indiscretions, especially any fetishes or sadistic traits, made for instant obedience. Money and favors poured in. Fury burned through her. She spun around on Philip.

“How dare you!” There could be no mistake that she didn’t know he was taping their conversations. Imelda had her own sexual excesses. Whipping a man or woman and watching their skin stripe while they screamed in pain was such a turn-on, and she could rarely refuse herself the pleasure, especially if she was sharing it with someone who appreciated the sight, such as Philip. He was a connoisseur of torture.

He backed away from her. “Imelda. You know I wouldn’t.”

She looked from him to Conner’s implacable mask. Who to believe? Would Philip really be that stupid as to risk everything they had together? She fed him clients. She shared his sexual proclivities. He was terrified of her with good reason. “Show me,” she challenged Conner.

He didn’t obey her command. Instead he looked at Marcos, who nodded. That put her on edge. This was her territory and between Philip and Martin Suma, her head of security, she looked weak. Damn them for this. She needed someone like Conner running her security.